Reflection: I Am America

It’s been 4 years since I took an oath to become an American citizen. I took an oath specifically to Trump which makes me nauseous typing BUT I also took an oath because of Trump. Before making the decision to become an American citizen, I had never really cared about politics but that was until Trump got elected. If you were a POC or immigrant or both, you felt the shift in the racial tension in the U.S right before the election but especially after the election. Racists overtly made their ignorant beliefs known that immigrants were not welcomed in this country. DACA was in the process of being repealed. DACAmented kids who should have been protected were being deported and there was a rise in deportation for undocumented immigrants as well or well the media made it seem like that. I felt that as an immigrant with LPR (legal permanent resident) status, I could possibly be next. In February of 2016, I sent my paperwork to USCIS to solidify my relationship with America. One could say that for better or worse, I finally decided to make a commitment to this country. Here is my blog post about the process:

https://rejectingstagnationafter.wordpress.com/2018/09/04/becoming-a-citizen-in-the-age-of-trump/

What has changed in the past 4 years since becoming an American and what does being American mean to me now?

Well, I’ve voted in 2 elections since I’ve become an American including the national election in 2020 (yay, no more Trump). In October of this year, I applied for my passport and have received it. Now, I can take a trip out of the country without any worries or concerns. While it is an immense privilege to be an American citizen since I  now have a whole new world of opportunities opened up and I can travel anywhere; I feel that I haven’t really changed on the inside. I still see myself and identify as an immigrant  but now I also call myself an American. But to be honest, my idea of being an American has changed. I used to think I needed a piece of paper to say “Oh, I’m American” but  for better or worse, America is and has been ingrained in me since that hot September day in 1986 when I set my foot on American soil at the age of 5.

I was an American when every morning at school I would say the Pledge of Allegiance in my broken and terrible English at the age of 6 and 7.

Little Immigrant Eliza
me in 1987

I was an American when I went back to Peru at age 9 to get my resident alien status solidified with my family.

I am America
me at age 9 in Peru during my trip with my family to get our LPR status

I was an American when I met my childhood best friends in Hawaii at age 11.

I am America
me with one of my childhood best friends from Hawaii

I was an American when I had my babies at ages 17, 24, and 30.

I am America
me with my three kids right after their births

I was American when I started working for the government at the age of 18.

I am America
me at the age of 18 in 1999 working for the government

I was an American when I got my college degree in 2009 from the University of Georgia .

I am America
me in 2009 with my parents at my graduation from college

I was an American in 2016 and early 2017 when I attended protests and marches for immigrant and women’s rights.

I am America
me in January of 2017 at the Women’s March in Washington D.C

And I was an American when people told me, “my english is good for being a Mexican” or I’ve been discriminated against or oppressed in this country by the people that don’t want “my kind” here.

I used to believe that I didn’t belong here because of the racism, prejudice, and ignorance I’ve encountered but that’s no longer the case. This year, I finally let go of those beliefs because I’ve embraced that I am America and America is me. My life may have been harder in many aspects because I wasn’t the average “American born” citizen but I will tell you that I wouldn’t trade my experience as an American to be average. I I feel that working harder than the “average American” for my success has made me appreciate my success so much more and for that I am thankful. My parents had no idea of the many hardships they would endure making the decision to immigrate to this country but I am glad they made that journey. It’s taken me 35 years to get here but today I can honestly say that I’m proud to be an American. 

I am America
me in November of 2021 telling my crazy story about being an essential worker

 

poetry: you’re so sensitive

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

poor kid-she deserved better

I grew up too quickly in some areas and remained a child in others –
it’s a truth that I hate to admit
it wasn’t my parents’ fault
they did the best with what they had –
an extra sensitive child with medical issues
it was too much for them to handle
when they were trying their best to keep their own heads above water
there was no extra time for the extra needs and demands I had
and while middle age holds space to have compassion for them
I still need to reparent my inner child
who comes out in the most inoportune of time
and has caused terrible havoc and harmed others
but it’s not her fault or mine
It happens sometimes, and now I’m taking the time
to nurture her so she can finally grow up

poetry: my season of healing

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

this is how healing looks like-me and my notebook against the world

healing is chaos and calm intertwined with diving timing
because after almost falling of the cliff of insanity
and wanting to end it all
a light flickered inside of me to push through-
that light was sometimes my anger, therapy, poetry
or my friends encouraging me to to move forward
to continue on my path of self discovery
and a year later-
I no longer care about why someone’s love wavered
or why someone treated me like shit
all i care about is vibrating to the version
of my highest and healthiest self
I care about intentionally setting fire to the path
of personal and professional success

poetry: hope for the future

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

sometimes it works though

for a long time I had given up on love-
thinking why should I even try
If I screw it up each and every time
but lately I feel myself lighter, happier-
and full of hope
that even after my disastrous love history
That’s still a world of romance left to experience and explore
There’s still more muses to write poetry about-
my love story didn’t end with an electronic pink slip
or being blocked from my whatevership
my love story will start over again
with someone who’s brave and strong enough to handle me-
and can’t imagine his life without me

poesía: atrapada

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Frigid

me ignoras, me rechazas, me conviertes en nada-
y trato de acercarme para revivir lo que teníamos
pero tu me haces sentir como una idiota, una estupida
me dices que no pasa nada y que estoy loca
Y yo me siento atrapada porque no quiero quedarme sola

poetry: no place like home

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

melodramatic Peruvian Energy..jajaja

my final step in returning to myself was returning to my homeland
once I finally found my stable sense of identity I had desperately searched for
since I could remember-
I felt like Alice in Wonderland
my eyes wide open, my mouth opened in awe-
taking in the glorious sights and sounds
of my birthplace
the 32 years away from it didn’t matter
the ocean, the mountains, the city welcomed me back
Reminding me it had always been there for me to come back to
and the powerful and profound emotions I felt in standing on the ground
that saw my birth and early childhood
made me understand there really is no place like home

poetry: chalk line

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

always a Reina

I used to be an expert at throwing my own pity parties
I drew a chalk line of the outline of my body
and called myself the victim of my life
It was before self-awareness kicked in,
it was before radical honesty
it was comforting to drown in my misery
but now, if I feel myself treading in a sea of self-pity
I look back on all of the progress I’ve made
and all of the healing I’ve done
and am reassured I’m not a victim anymore
I never really was
I was always a diamond buried under a mountain
of mental illness-and now I shine
with the queen energy that took me a long time
to uncover

poetry: slow down

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

my soul commands me to slow down and listen in silence to what I need
It tells me to not suppress anything-even it looks angry
another mean and petty poem appears
it’s okay, it’s shadow self needing to be seen
it’s a part of my identity that doesn’t define me
my soul tells me I’m not worst or best moments
I’m more complicated than that
I’m a woman full of trauma search for the calm in the chaos
that is her life

poetry: another day

Aqui esta la version en espanol:

Poesia: Solo y Agotado

another illegal dies under suspicious circumstances and no one cares
or mourns him,
some even comment on how he should have stayed in his country-
and it’s hard to understand the inhumanity, the hateful rhetoric
Is his life worth less because of his ethnicity and immigration status?

poesía: cuatro años

Here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry:Childhood Lies

buscando paz y seguridad-
mis padres dejaron nuestra patria por otra-
pensando que sería una mejor vida para todos
nunca pensaron que seríamos menospreciados
y maltratados por cuatro años
por nuestra falta de inglés y documentos

poetry: saint tracey

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me with my oldest in 1998

saint tracey assured me my life wasn’t over
she showed me love and compassion
when everyone else shunned me
she accepted me for who I was
and encouraged me to follow the path of success
she saw the hidden potential in me
when other teachers saw laziness
she was a prayer from God
sent to me to remind me
my mistakes don’t define me
and that I was still worthy of the love
and goodness in the world

poetry: target

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

Family life in the 80s
Family life in the 80s

my aunt treated us like we were inferior and subhuman
constantly pointing out our flaws with subtle sarcasm
putting pressure on my mom to choose her over us
insulting my father or sister
what about us made her project her insecurities
Was it my dad’s intelligence or my sister’s beauty?
or maybe she really hated my mom for having everything she didn’t have
a loving and doting husband
and all healthy children
What made us a target for my aunt’s abuse?

poetry: first grade

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me in 1987 in first grade

in first grade, I learned to be ashamed and embarrassed of who I was,
and where I came from
maybe the nuns were ignorant of the damage they were doing
and since that time I’ve had identity issues
for years, i gave up my language and my heritage in order to fit in-
to have proximity to being an American
but all it did was fuck up my identity
and while I have forgiven the nuns for the damage done
I have a hard time finding compassion for myself
I have a hard time letting go the guilt
For the pain I caused my family
I have a hard time understanding I was just a kid
desperately trying to fit in, to belong, to be accepted
to conform of the standards of being American society fed me